


Juxtaposition

by Skyzuki



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Budding Love, Character Study, Default Hawke (Dragon Age), Developing Relationship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Purple Hawke, before all the bad shit goes down, nothing explicit!!!!, takes place in act 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 11:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyzuki/pseuds/Skyzuki
Summary: Anders cannot remember the last time that he slept in a bed with proper sheets.





	Juxtaposition

**Author's Note:**

> Henlo!!  
> Something that kills me about DA2 is that Anders is actually pretty witty and easygoing(ala awakening) early on in the game. I just cling to the hope that his and Hawke's relationship was happy and wholesome at first, let me have this one thing.

Anders cannot remember the last time that he slept in a bed with proper sheets.

The linens at the Circle were scratchy, tenuous things that were shit at providing warmth. When not occupied by a patient, his bedroll at the clinic is efficient but otherwise austere. He is used to sleeping on the ground, or crammed into tents.

He is half asleep now, sated and comfortable. Bundled in the most luxurious burgundy satin he has ever felt in his entire life.

She has more pillows than one person could ever require; his head is resting on her chest, despite this. An array of thick, fluffy blankets lay discarded and forgotten on the plush carpet.

_You’re so far gone, you’ve fallen in love with her bedding_

The fire is dying, small embers desperately trying to grab hold of charred wood. The estate’s other residents are long asleep, most likely unaware of the fact that there is a strange apostate in their home.

Hawke is a strange apostate herself, he figures.

He was fearful when he first came to her door.

Seeing her out of her armor was strange. She was so vulnerable, standing in front of the mantle in her robes.

She is sinewy, muscular, broad; she is feared, revered, praised. She is a hero outside of this room, someone who they look to for assistance. She’s saved endless lives and ended many more.

And here she is.

Their Hawke is soft around her belly. Their Hawke is freckled, and dimpled, and scarred. Their Hawke is ticklish on her rib cage, and enjoys the feeling of fingers in her hair.

She prefers whiskey to beer, and her favorite color is pink, and she is afraid of spiders. She is a terrible cook, a worse singer, and an even _worse_ poet.

She’s snoring a bit, now. Another minute, endearing detail.

He kisses her sternum, a collarbone, her jaw.

She crinkles her nose, stirring and smiling.

“Your hair is the color of the sun.” She muses, voice thick with sleep.

“I highly doubt it.” He laughs, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her temple.

“I’ll have you know I am an-“ He kisses her lips, she snorts. “I am an expert at comparisons.”

She puts a hand on either side of his face, studying his features.

“My dear,” She puts on a very serious expression. “Your eyes are the very same shade of amber as the Hanged Man’s house ale.”

“Thank you for collating my eyes to that piss.” She pokes the tip of his nose.

“Your lips are like the finest rose petals from the finest bush in Orlais.”

“Please don’t ever say the words ‘finest bush in Orlais.’”     

She rolls them both over, legs tangling in the fine satin.

“Your skin is as white as the first snow that blankets the Hinterlands.”

“Andraste’s ass, please stop.”

She snickers, before pulling him in for another kiss.  

Their Hawke is a fierce woman; diplomatic, yet assertive. Their Hawke is brave, if not a bit unconventional.

He realizes now, that their Hawke belongs to no one but herself. Hawke isn’t theirs, or his, or anyone’s.

Hawke is brave, Hawke is determined, Hawke is strong.

Hawke is rather awkwardly straddling his stomach, Hawke grabs a pillow from the ground and whacks him with it, Hawke makes him laugh like he hasn’t in a long time.

He loves her. He loves Hawke.

 

 


End file.
